Ships of the Asegon Sea

Herro, son of Kak, was the third son of Kak, son of Kak, elder of his tribe. Had he been first or second born, he would have been raised and prepared to be an elder as well, since his family was of an old Haracc bloodline. However, such was not the life for him. Still, like all of Haracc, he sought a heroic death so that he could be honored by Bactar and his people, and remembered for all time. Yet this was not as easy as it sounded.

Growing up on Haracc and hearing the old legends recounted by the Elders, his father included, filled his heart with courage and a desire for adventure, for war and battle. Yet unlike the old times told in tales, such strife was not forthcoming on Haracc. Prosperity and trade had once again taken hold of the islands of Haracc, and times had only improved with the increase of far-lander ships coming to shore, bringing strange goods, tools and baubles.

Herro would oft find himself wandering the shore where the far-lander traders came to conduct themselves. According to the Elders tales, this place was the very same landing where the first far-landers came all those years ago, and it was deemed deeply insulting to Bactar to sully his island anywhere else than where he originally had appointed. He often watched the libation of assemblage performed when traders arrived, heralding negotiations of wares of all sorts. Over the years, he came to roughly understand the strange tongue of those who considered themselves the Ban’so’gaŕokan, though the Elders swore that to them, all far-lander languages sounded too alien and dissimilar.

He grew up listening to their stories of the larger world beyond the great ocean. Like those stories of the Elders, again, a desire for adventure awakened within him, and he was not alone. Many other young men, not just from his tribe, but those further within the hills had begun to yearn for more than the now peaceful island of Haracc could offer.

Then, one day, Ban’so’gaŕokan ships arrived at the island, but while it held gifts and wares to trade, it too contained adventure.

The claimed they were looking for brave Haracc warriors to come with them to their home, a great tribe beyond the sea. There, they would see battle, and be paid richly with the fine goods that were held highly by the Haracc. Seeing a way to finally gain glory in the eyes of Bactar and his forefathers, he and many other aspiring warriors volunteered, dawning their masks of war, arms, ceremonial pots, and knives of obsidian.

Leaving the island was a shock. As they pulled further and further, Haracc, center of the world, grew smaller and smaller before them. It made Herro feel smaller still. The greater shock came far later. After many days at sea, a visage of land appeared before all the Haracc. A landmass that dwarfed their home. Seemingly endless, the warriors were astounded by its sheer size. This was only broken when the small fleet pulled into the place they called Bagaroki. Structures larger than any on Haracc scaled far above their heads, and countless ships were held there. Throngs of people innumerable to the simple Haracc, all in foreign dress with unknown goods, made Herro seem out of place. Great temples and halls to gods other than Bactar offended his brothers in arms, but he had heard of other deities. Still, it angered him that they received far more praise here than Bactar.

He and his men were made guests by the Elder of this large and mighty tribe, and were given many riches. However, as the Haracc were growing impatient, they were given commands for war and bloodshed.

Thus began the series of battles. His Brothers of Haracc fought with great ferocity and bravery, slaying those who stood against their arms. Places similar to Bagaroki, what the farlanders here referred to as cities, were broken and ransacked. Strangers from faraway lands, even farther than Haracc, also fought alongside them, seeming strange and uncomfortable to look at. Still, it was the great grey beasts the Ban’so’gaŕokan rode into battle that Herro would never forget. Truly great monsters lurked in the lands far from home.

While their numbers dwindled, the ceremonial pots of heroism filled. Obsidian daggers slashed the veins of the fallen Haracc, and oaths were sworn to return them to Haracc, so that they could be seen gloriously by the eyes of Bactar. Still, while many fell, those that survived, like Herro, marked their war masks with great victories, and greater and greater shares of the spoils came to them. When the warring ended, Herro had decided that this was a good and honorable life. He hoped to keep living it.

/r/AgeofMan Thread Parent